An Anglo-Saxon gentlewoman, patron of
the arts, equestrienne, and tax protester, etc. All the historians
say that she "flourished, circa 1040 - 1080 A.D."

Leofric, earl of Mercia, and husband
of Lady Godiva, was a man of broad but obscure interests; a religious
man thoroughly Christian, and an entrepreneur, raconteur, and
general all around good sport. At the same time, he did have
an avaricious streak in him, and it is for this reason that his
name has survived through the ages, but more prominently for
his interesting response to the nagging of his bleeding-heart
wife, who pestered him incessantly over details of the daily
lives of the peasants under his control, and similar fussy matters.

It's not that she was always being petulant
about everything he did, but certain of his actions caused her
to be irritable, but that part of the story comes later.

Actually both Leofric and Godiva were
quite religious, and upon their move to Coventry, Warwickshire,
from Shrewsbury, Shropshire (where Leofric had earned his fortune
and title from amazing successes in the mutton trade), they were
immediately impressed by the lack of proper facilities for training
and housing men of the cloth in or around the raucous little
district of Coventry (pop. 6215). How, they thought, were the
spiritual needs of these simple souls to be cared for? At the
same time, being somewhat "nouveau riche" and anxious
to make their mark in what passed for genteel society there (not
having had the proper credentials to enter such circles back
in Shropshire -- which may have been a big piece of the motivation
for the move), they decided to apply some of their ready cash
to a worthy public cause.

Near the physical center of Coventry,
where the bombed-out ruin of mighty Coventry Cathedral stands
today, Leofric and Godiva (in 1043) founded and funded an abbey
(some accounts say monastery), named in honor of Ste. Eunice
of Saxmundham (an early martyr, slain by flaying at the hands
of the Romans). The abbey faced the rising sun, as was decreed
it should by Leofric in a moment of romantic inspiration. A simple
affair, made of wattle and daub with a roof of thatched reeds
in the manner of the day, it was nevertheless imposing by standards
in the village otherwise; it was the biggest structure in the
entire region.

Before long this edifice was something
of a social focus for the town, functioning not only as a center
for the education and housing of those who had received the calling,
but also as a gathering point where more vulgar popular events
and festivities could be celebrated. Leofric and Godiva came
to be awarded the attention and respect they longed for from
the start, and they had served the purposes of the church as
well. They did not seem to mind that much of the activity circulating
around the abbey was decidedly Druid in origin; at least the
peasants were occupied and happy. Coventry grew around the abbey.

As a gentleman, and now established
philanthropist of some local repute, Leofric assumed a growing
role in the governance of public affairs, and was given responsibility
for certain financial matters (the town had grown enough to actually
have financial matters), which he quickly understood as presenting
especially interesting opportunities. One public work generated
the idea of another, if only some money were at hand to facilitate
such growth...

Meanwhile, Godiva's proficiency as a
horsewoman had become polished to a considerable degree, as she
had acquired a taste for the hunt and the social pleasantries
which accrue to the activity "apres." Plus, the people
she met during these excursions which provided such complacency,
were of a disposition and delicacy of interest to which she had
aspired for some time. She could do worse than to engage in certain
preoccupations of the intellect, and considerations of the aesthetic,
and so she immersed herself in the arts and, therefore, society.

Perhaps, she earnestly thought, aid
to those industrious in this field of elevated concern (artists)
would inspire the rude masses by means of example. Commissioning
a proper portrait of herself would be a good place to start;
it would be an inspiration for simpler souls, so the work was
begun.

It only slowly entered Godiva's consciousness
that the lack of success she was having in interesting the base
masses in artistic concerns, beautiful pictures of herself spread
around or not, was rooted in the fact that nearly all of them
spent 100% of their waking hours in partially effective efforts
to feed and clothe themselves, and to provide some form of shelter
from the elements. Most were having a hard time of it, in light
of the fact that Leofric, in his new-found megalomaniacal grand-public-works
mode, had been taxing everything he could think of, even including
a levy on manure.

Lady Godiva would not have such noble
aspirations -- such as art for everyone -- placed on a back burner
for the sake of boring considerations like a municipal water
supply. Men had such ignoble visions, always functional and mechanical,
mostly never above waist level. This would not do, the taxes
must be reduced if this early medieval subsistence-agriculture
village was going to pull itself up into the 11th century and
its more cultured concerns. She went to have a pointed talk with
Leofric.

Beside himself with raucous laughter,
Leofric injured his left wrist slightly as he fell off his stool
in the hall of the village burghers, and this sobered him up
rather quickly. Reduce taxes in order to foster the peasants'
appreciation of silly pictures? Was she mad? No waterworks? There
would be no tax reduction; as a matter of fact, Leofric added
a new tax on pictures, which only had to be paid by his wife
since she was the only person who had any, except for the church
which was exempt.

Their argument became a classic war
of wills, taking the equally classic form of nagging versus stone-walling.
However, at very long last, since his wife would not give up
and was driving him to distraction and worse, Leofric capitulated,
but, regarding it all as something of a sport, attached an interesting
condition to his offer to allow some reduction in taxation.

The ancient Greeks, he pointed out,
and those coarser Romans as well, viewed the nude human body
as one of the highest expressions of the perfection of Nature.
Nudity was not seen as erotic in any sense, but as purity, and
a celebration of the wonderful form of a sensuous being displayed
in all its marvelous glory for the betterment and appreciation
of those enlightened enough to consider this aesthetic. To present
a well formed nude body as an object of great beauty, even art,
would be to offer a lesson of inestimable value to the simple
peasants of Coventry, whose experiences and perceptions had never
been enlightened to appreciate such perfection.

If Lady Godiva truly believed in the
crusade she was promoting, then she should lead it herself, and
offer to the citizens of Coventry an example of the glorious
beauty to be understood by careful consideration of a perfect
nude human body. There could be no shame in this, it would be
the most gross error to consider it as such. Was she ashamed
of the wonders of God's work? Besides, with all that horse-back
riding, and similar, she had lost some weight and looked pretty
good.

Therefore, Leofric proclaimed that if
Lady Godiva would ride her horse through the crowded market-place
of Coventry, in the full light of mid-day, clothed in only that
which God had given her, as an example of the perfection of God's
work and as an expression of the highest possible aesthetic --
she had been spreading pictures of herself around anyway -- then
he would reduce taxes on the populace, lifting from them the
burden Godiva perceived, and erasing from himself any further
doubt he might harbor of the sincerity of Godiva's convictions.

To Leofric's absolute surprise, she
agreed, once she had ensured that she actually had his "permission"
to do so.

Taken aback by his wife's courage and
certainty in her purposes Leofric, somewhat overwhelmed, then
stated that he fully accepted the truth of Lady Godiva's belief
in the merits of her cause, and so in response, on completion
of her ride he would not just reduce taxes, but would remove
all of them -- save those tolls on horses which were already
in place before he assumed his office, and which were necessary
for basic needs of the city.

A day was chosen for the event, and
while no particular effort had been expended to publicize the
ride, talk of it had spread in whispers throughout the whole
of Coventry. Not wishing to reveal that this concealed discussion
had taken place, and since people were curious about all aspects
of the affair and did not want to interrupt it, the marketplace's
business proceeded as it might have done on any other less interesting
Thursday in late August.

As noon approached, so did Lady Godiva.
She was not alone, but was accompanied by two female aides also
on horseback, but normally clothed; one rode on each side and
slightly to the rear. Three horses walking on the cobbles in
formation at a measured gait did not have the sound of the usual
traffic and bustle, and so -- since all were secretly and eagerly
anticipating the event -- her appearance was announced clearly
to everyone.

She sat straight and properly in the
saddle with a look of composure on her face; relaxed, confident,
unashamed. Her hair was done in two large braids which were curled
snugly at the back of her head, one on each side; she wore no
jewelry or other adornment. People looked at her and saw that
she was not merely naked, or nude; rather she was in a higher
state of presentation -- being a correct and elevated quality
of her composure, and resulting also from the people's appraisal,
appreciation, and consideration beyond simple voyeurism.

To all present this was an experience
like no other in their lives. The only images of people unclothed
they had ever seen were in the church: Adam and Eve, and the
crucified Christ. This was a lady, simple and normal with a body
like that of every other woman present, a human, a creature of
God's earth. Though he half meant it as a joke, Leofric's words
rang true: here was a celebration of being in its perfection.

Perhaps, as well, some believed with
Zoroaster that sex is the bounty of God.

So, all survived the event with peacefulness
and dignity, and the taxes were removed.

In the CHRONICA, written by Roger of
Wendover (who died in 1236), the account of the year 1057 tells
the story of Godiva's ride in full detail, and is the earliest
surviving written description.

Even more complete versions are provided
by the famous historian Ranulf Higden (died in 1364) in his POLYCHRONICON,
and by Henry Knighton (died c. 1396) who followed him, which
explain not only the details of the ride and its reasons, but
also the specifics of the removed taxes, in particular that all
save those on horses were eliminated.

Much later, King Edward I, being an
inquisitive man (he devised an earnest, but rather awkward system
for the classification of songbirds in Wales), wished to discover
the truth of the Godiva story and, therefore, commissioned an
inquiry of ancient records which showed that in 1057 and thereabouts,
there were indeed no taxes levied in Coventry except those on
horses, which was a rather anomalous situation not seen elsewhere
at the time, thereby establishing the merit and probable accuracy
of the legend.

The tale of "Peeping Tom",
who was struck blind (or dead) when he alone gazed upon Lady
Godiva was not added until the 17th century. This is also true
of the detail of the story, often added, that Godiva was covered
totally, except for her legs, by an enormous and improbable quantity
of hair.

Doubtless both of these embellishments
were supplied later by prudish Christian churchmen who entirely
missed the point and considered that viewing the unclothed human
body under any circumstance was a heinous act which would damn
one to eternal hell fire; they certainly thought the female body
to be dirty and inferior to appreciation, and only worthy of
being hidden from view. On the face of it such a view would seem
to be a perversion, and affront to the beauty of God's work.
The Greeks felt that the idealized human form was the only one
worthy to represent the gods on earth. On the other hand, the
Christian faith is unique in that it alone has, throughout its
history, suppressed any celebration of the beauty of the human
body.

So, what was Lady Godiva? A visionary;
a social climber; a patron of the arts; a dilettante of the worst
order?

In any estimation, she had the guts
to follow her convictions, and may have brought a degree of enlightenment
to a small corner of 11th century England. And, probably, no
one went to Hell because of it.